


Red River Valley

by justheretobreakthings



Series: Voltron Events [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Musician Lance (Voltron), Post-season 7, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 07:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15814221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justheretobreakthings/pseuds/justheretobreakthings
Summary: Come and sit by my side if you love me;Do not hasten to bid me adieu,But remember the Red River Valley,And the cowboy who loved you so true.Lance's guitar brings back memories for Krolia.





	Red River Valley

Krolia didn’t much like the Galaxy Garrison’s on-campus hospital. It wasn’t any problem she had with the health-care at the facility; it was more simplistic than the sort she was used to seeing, but it seemed to be more or less effective for humans, and there seemed to be no malice below the surface of it, so it would do the job. And the building was a bit clinical, but not nearly so impersonal as the sort offered at the Blade headquarters or among the Galra army, and was brightly lit and even decorated in spots.

What she didn’t like about it were the people. She didn’t think the people here were bad – if she had, then she gladly would have put her knife through the throat of any doctor who tried to lay their hand on Keith while he was hurting and prone after that battle with Sendak – but she did think that they didn’t seem to want her around. No one was outright hostile to her, but the suspicious glances people would cast her when she walked by them, the way people were quieter around her, the way doctors and nurses would be much more comfortable giving Shiro updates on Keith’s health than they would her, all failed to escape her notice.

It was probably at least a little understandable, considering that she looked like the people who had spent the last two years destroying and oppressing this planet, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it.

And it was why she very seldom ventured out of Keith’s room if she could help it. Shiro had half-joked to her at one point that he now saw where Keith inherited his lack of sociability from, and he had a bit of a point. For days now Krolia had practically been holed up in Keith’s room, only talking to him, Shiro, and Kolivan except for those couple of occasions when Coran or Romelle or Matt or stepped in for a quick visit. The rest of the paladins were all confined to their own beds, so none of them had been able to drop in.

Krolia had wondered idly to herself whether maybe she should have stopped in to see the other paladins at any point. She had, after all, stayed and fought with them for a while, gotten to know them a bit, and they probably deserved at least the courtesy of her wishing them a speedy recovery in person.

It still took her a while to finally do so, though, and she probably wouldn’t have at all if it hadn’t been for the guitar.

She had gone out to fetch some food from the hospital cafeteria while Keith had been napping and Kolivan and Kosmo had been there to keep an eye on him, and hadn’t planned to make the venture any longer than it needed to be – she was already irritable by the fact that even the friendliest smile she could manage for the cafeteria worker who scanned the meal card she’d been given courtesy of the Garrison hadn’t stopped him from shaking nervously and refusing to meet her eyes as he rang her up and bid she enjoy her meal – and had been on her way back to Keith’s room when she heard it.

Her ear had twitched in the direction of the strumming and she turned to look toward the source of the sound. Room 614, she was pretty certain that this was one of the rooms that one of the paladins was occupying, although she didn’t know which was which. Now seemed as good a time as any to check, and curiosity drove her to make her way down the hall and poke her head through the cracked-open door to see its occupant.

This room was identical to the one Keith was laid up in, white furniture and pale off-yellow walls and wide windows, and it was empty except for the person sitting up in the bed in an orange and white hospital gown, back against the headboard. Lance had a matte black acoustic guitar laid out across his lap, and his tongue poked out from between his lips as he strummed his thumb against the strings over the sound hole with one hand and pressed the strings to the fretboard with the fingertips of the other.

“That’s a guitar, isn’t it?” Krolia asked.

Lance jumped, his fingers slipping in his surprise and sending a muffled and discordant handful of notes out of the instrument before he whipped his head around to the doorway. “Oh, Krolia!” he said. “I – I didn’t hear you come in! Uh, yeah, it’s a guitar. It’s, ah, it’s mine. Played it for years. My sister tuned it up for me – not Veronica, Rachel, the other one, she’s the one who knows music – and she brought it over. Figured I’d have missed it.” He smiled sadly down at the instrument. “She’s right, I did miss it. And my calluses are nearly gone, so I gotta start building them up again. I’ll probably be getting blisters for a while, but it’ll be worth it.” He looked back up at Krolia. “What are you doing in here, by the way?”

“I was on my way back to Keith’s room,” Krolia answered. “But I heard you playing, and I haven’t stopped in to wish you good health yet, so, I – I decided to do so.”

“So my serenading brought a beautiful woman to my room, huh?” Lance asked, a grin cracking over his face.

Krolia stared at him, then slowly her face fell to a dark scowl. “All right, I don’t know what sorts of signals you think you’ve picked up on, but if you think for one instant that I – ”

“Wait, no, I’m sorry, I was joking!” Lance said hastily, eyes wide in panic. “I was joking, I swear, I’m sorry, it’s – it’s sort of an instinct, I – I, uh, I flirt when I’m nervous, see, do it to everyone, it doesn’t mean – I didn’t mean – I’m sorry.”

Krolia folded her arms, gaze narrowed, but she nodded curtly. “Hm. All right, but don’t do it again.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Please don’t stab me.”

“I won’t.”

“Thank you.” He took a deep breath before turning back to his guitar. “So, uh, you, uh, you asked if this was a guitar, right? How do you know about guitars?”

It took a moment for Krolia to answer as she stared down at the instrument in Lance’s hands. “My… my husband played one.”

Lance’s brows shot up. “Your husband? Keith’s dad?”

Krolia nodded. “Yes. His was a different color, but the same instrument. I quite liked the sound.”

“Don’t suppose you get much music in the Galra empire, huh?” Lance asked.

“Some. But certainly not on warships and military bases. And none quite the same as the guitar. It’s a very… humble-sounding instrument. Simple but sincere.”

“Huh. Never thought of describing it that way.”

“What was it you were playing?” Krolia asked.

“Oh, uh, it was ‘Brown-Eyed Girl’. You know it?” Krolia shook her head. “Well, it’s one of the first songs I learned. Aside from, like, ‘Hot Cross Buns’. It’s got pretty simple chords and all. Figured it’s a good one to start warming me back up to playing. I know lots of others too, though. You got any requests?”

“I don’t know very many Earth songs.”

Lance tapped his thumb thoughtfully against the pick guard of his guitar. “What sort of songs did your husband play? You remember any of those?”

Krolia paused in thought before she slowly answered. “I don’t remember the names of them. There was… there was one I liked best, one he played a lot. It was about a – a ‘cow boy’, is what he was called, and it was a song where he was singing to a girl who was leaving or… or something. My husband said it was a popular song. A folk song, he called it.”

“Wait, I think I know it!” Lance said brightly. “Was it Red River Valley?”

Krolia stood straighter, nodding in recognition. “Yes, yes, I believe that’s it. You know the song?”

“Yeah, I do actually!” Lance said. He held the guitar, readying it to play. “You want it in English or Spanish?”

“What does that mean?”

“… Right. English it is.” His face went serious and he focused on strumming a few opening chords, then his voice joined in as the lyrics began.

_“From this valley they say you are going,_  
_I will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile,_  
_For alas you are taking the sunshine  
_ _That has brightened my pathway a while.”_

Krolia felt a small smile tugging at her own lips as Lance played and sang. It had been so long since she’d heard this song, and she’d slowly been starting to forget how it went, and finally hearing it again… it was like retrieving a little bit of home. She did miss getting to hear her husband sing it – she had loved hearing his voice; it had been low and warm and smooth, and listening to it was like drinking a dark wine. But Lance was still a pretty good singer, and the fact that she was getting to hear it at all was more important than whose voice it was in. She let her eyes drift closed as she listened to the rest of it.

_“Come and sit by my side if you love me;_  
_Do not hasten to bid me adieu,_  
_But remember the Red River Valley,  
_ _And the cowboy who loved you so true._

_I’ve been thinking a long time, my darling – ”_

Krolia’s eyes opened again, and she turned to Lance in confusion. “What’s that?” she asked.

Lance stopped playing and looked up at her, brow raised. “What’s what?”

“What you just started playing?”

“The – the next verse? What about it?”

“The next – I thought that was the whole song,” Krolia said. “My husband only ever played up to the line about the cowboy.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s understandable,” Lance said, nodding thoughtfully. “Lot of people only know the first verse and chorus for most folk songs. And a lot of other songs, come to think of it. It’s called ‘second-verse curse’. Me, though, being the brilliant music aficianado that I am, I know it in full, so I guess it’s your lucky day. Wanna hear the rest?”

“I… suppose so, sure. Go ahead.”

Lance smiled and resumed playing, picking the song up where he’d left it off.

_“I’ve been thinking a long time, my darling,_  
_Of the sweet words you never would say,_  
_Now, alas, must my fond hopes all vanish?  
_ _For they say you are going away._

_Won’t you think of the valley you’re leaving,_  
_Oh, how lonely and sad it will be,_  
_Just think of the fond heart you’re breaking,  
_ _And the grief you are causing to me.”_

Krolia kept her eyes on the way Lance’s fingers moved along the neck of the guitar, on the way his thumb strummed up and down against the strings. The lyrics were… she didn’t know what to think of them. The first verse and chorus hadn’t exactly been  _happy_ , but they’d been bittersweet. Like the singer was sad to see the girl in the song going, but still wished her well. There hadn’t been this desperation in the song, this – this pain, this finality.

 _This_  was song that her husband had played when they sat out on the porch together under the night sky? The one he had even sometimes used to get a restless Keith to fall asleep? The one that had become her favorite?

Had he known about these other verses? Surely he hadn’t.

Because Krolia didn’t like to think of these words coming from her husband. Didn’t like it at all.

_“From this valley they say you are going,_  
_When you go, may your darling go too?_  
_Would you leave him behind unprotected,  
_ _When he loves no one other than you?_

_They will – ”_

Lance stopped singing when a hand came down onto the neck of the guitar, holding the strings down. Krolia hadn’t even realized she had crossed the room and grabbed it, had cut off the sound as she gripped the neck and stared down at the instrument, or at least toward it – her eyes were unfocused, too much so to actually be staring  _at_  it.

“Krolia?”

Krolia blinked and turned to see Lance staring up at her in worry. Slowly she pried her hand off the guitar’s neck and let it fall to her side. “I… I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. I don’t think… I don’t think I much like these other verses.”

Lance cleared his throat. “There’s, uh, there’s only one left. Do you want me to, uh…?”

Krolia shook her head. “No, that’s fine. I’ve – I’ve heard enough.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would, uh, upset you or anything, I just – ”

“It didn’t,” Krolia said, perhaps a bit more abruptly than she’d intended. “It didn’t. It’s fine. I’m fine. I just have to… have to be getting back to Keith’s room now. He and Kolivan will start to worry.”

“Right,” Lance said. “Right, yeah.”

Krolia turned stiffly to the door, pulling it open to leave. “Thank you for indulging me, Lance,” she said, tone measured and flat. “You’re a good musician.”

“Thanks,” Lance replied. “Uh, glad I could help.”

* * *

The moment Keith was cleared by the doctors to be allowed to be up and walking around, the first thing Krolia had suggested was an outing to get outside of the hospital for a bit, get some fresh air. The staff had been hesitant, telling her that even though he was okay to be out of bed, that didn’t mean he was ready to be overexerting himself, and maybe they should stay within the hospital’s facilities for a while longer. It hadn’t taken much arguing and staring down from Krolia, though, to get them to relent.

She supposed there was at least one advantage to the hospital’s faculty being scared of her.

She had told Keith where she wanted to go, and he hadn’t been surprised. He agreed that he wanted to come along too, and they arranged a ride. Krolia was a bit irritated by that, but Keith certainly was not up for driving, and apparently spending decades piloting military craft still did not allow Krolia to take a vehicle to the streets without a valid American driver’s license – which she thought was utterly absurd, but begrudgingly relented on – so one of the Garrison’s officers had taken them to their destination, not having been happy about having Kosmo drooling all over the backseat of the vehicle, but also smart enough not to try to pry the wolf away from Keith’s side.

They arrived at the cemetery all too soon.

The officer stayed in the car while the little family made their way among the headstones. Krolia let Keith lead the way, since he knew where the grave they wanted would be, and she idly read the names etched into the headstones they passed as they walked.

“Here it is,” Keith said when he located the right one.

Krolia froze where she stood, staring. It had been one thing to see a vision of this headstone back in the quantum abyss, back when she’d been pulled unceremoniously into Keith’s memories and discovered with a shock what had become of her husband, and what had thus become of her son.

It was quite another to see it in person, to see it up close.

She lifted a hand to the letters carved into the stone, slowly and almost unconsciously tracing over the name and date etched there, as if checking to see whether they were real.

“All you all right, Mom?” Keith asked behind her.

“I’m all right,” she said quietly. “I’m – I’m glad we could do this. Glad I could get to see it.”

“Yeah…”

“You know, I – I wish I could have seen what we would have been like. As a family, together.” She let out a dry breath of a laugh. “I suppose that goes without saying, doesn’t it? Obviously, I wish I could’ve had that. But I… I only got to be there when you were a baby, before you were able to talk or walk or – or start to have your own personality and interests and…” She sighed. “And I know you now and I knew him then, but… I never got to know both of you together.”

Keith was silent as he moved forward to stand next to her, staring at the headstone with her. His arms were crossed. Not in defiance or closing himself off, more like steadying himself, keeping stable. “He taught me checkers,” he said.

Krolia tilted her head toward him. “What?”

“Checkers. It’s a board game. He taught it to me, and we played it a lot.” He shrugged. “I’m just… trying to think of things. Things that you missed. So – so you can at least know.”

Krolia turned back to look at the headstone, and she nodded. “He taught you checkers. What else?”

“He – he made really good eggs. Usually for breakfast, but I liked them a lot, so sometimes I would whine just the right amount that he’d make breakfast-for-dinner, and we’d have eggs then too.”

“I liked his eggs,” Krolia said quietly.

“And he would make different voices for every character when he’d read stories,” Keith continued. “They were so bad and – and they’d crack me up. Sometimes so much that I wouldn’t even pay attention to the story. And he’d drive us out to the library every other Saturday to pick up new ones.”

He paused, pursing his lips as he tried to think of other details to share. “He got me fingerpaints once, and while he was busy taking a nap once I managed to get them down from the closet and pretty much painted the whole living room wall. And when he woke up, he came downstairs, stared at the wall for about a whole minute, and just went right back up and tried to go back to sleep.” Krolia let out a little laugh. “I think he regretted ever trying to teach me how to draw, seeing the destruction it led to.”

“He probably wasn’t the best teacher for it,” Krolia said. “I’ve seen his drawings before, they were very, ah… he tried his best.”

Keith snorted. “I liked them. And he was a good teacher for other things. The basic stuff like reading and riding a bike all, of course, but also just things he liked, like, about animals and stars and stuff.”

Krolia smiled thoughtfully at the headstone. “Hey, Keith?” she asked. “Did he ever teach you to play the guitar?”

Keith shook his head. “He said he would once I was big enough, had the bigger hands and fingers for it, but, well…” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Guess he never got the chance. Why, uh, why do you ask?”

“No reason really,” Krolia answered. “I’ve just… had cause to think about it recently. Remembered some of the songs he’d play.”

“I always liked them,” Keith said softly. “Would have liked to learn.”

“Do you remember the songs he played?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you… do you remember Red River Valley?”

Keith nodded.

“Oh. How many verses did that song have?”

“Um, like, six, I think?”

“Oh.” So he had known the whole song. He had just only played the first two stanzas for her. But he had played the rest once she was gone.

He must have needed the rest afterward.

Krolia took a long, slow breath. “Do you happen to remember the last verse?” she asked. “I never learned it.”

Keith furrowed his brow in thought. “I think so, yeah.”

“How does it go?”

Keith looked quizzically toward her, but he obliged. His voice was somewhat rough, higher than his father’s and closer to Lance’s in pitch. Despite the roughness, his singing voice was surprisingly dulcet. Nothing amazing, but he wasn’t a bad singer, just untrained.

_“They will bury me where you have wandered,_  
_Near the hills where the daffodils grow,_  
_When you’re gone from the Red River valley,  
_ _For I can’t live without you I know.”_

Krolia kept her eyes on the headstone as Keith finished, and let a silence linger there afterward. “I miss him,” she finally said after a minute had passed.

“Me too,” Keith said quietly.

“I hate to think that – that he felt I just left him. I know he knows why, but – ”

“He didn’t think any badly of you for it, you know,” Keith cut her off. “I mean, he always… he never really gave me much detail about you, and I know now why that was, but he definitely still loved you. The way he talked about you…” He sighed. “I always kinda figured dad was lying about it, he was in denial or something. Because, like, he’d tell me my mother was beautiful but would never show me a picture, or tell me she was brave but wouldn’t tell me why he thought so. So I – I started thinking maybe he was just making up some version of a mom for me to try to make me happy. I guess I sort of resented you for it. But – but he never did.” He looked over toward her. “And I shouldn’t have, either. I don’t anymore.”

“Thank you,” Krolia said. She wasn’t sure what else to say.

They lost track of how long they stayed there, each of them content in the quiet, only occasionally interrupting it to offer another piece of memory, another detail of the picture of what the three of them as a family all together might have been like. It wasn’t until Krolia noticed that the sky was starting to take on an orange tint as the sun set that they turned back. If the driver from the Garrison had been annoyed by how long they’d left him waiting, he was smart enough not to show it in front of Krolia.

Keith collapsed heavily back into his bed the moment they were back in his hospital room, and Krolia felt a small twinge of guilt for having kept him out for so long, but he smiled contentedly as he stretched out on the bed even through his exhaustion, so he probably was okay. “Think I’m gonna head to sleep now,” he said. “You planning to stay the night again?”

Krolia nodded. “You still don’t mind?”

“’Course not,” Keith answered through a yawn.

Krolia smiled at him. “By the way, Keith, if you still want to learn guitar, I’m sure it can be done.”

“Hm?”

“You could ask Lance to teach you.”

Keith let out a half-laugh, half-groan. “Oh, God, Lance as my teacher. I can only imagine how that would go.”

Krolia shrugged. “Just letting you know the option’s there.”

“Why would you suggest it right before I go to sleep? I’m gonna have nightmares now.”

“Oh, hush up.”

Keith smiled at her before he caught the light on his nightstand and set his head on his pillow, eyes closing. He may have been heading to sleep now, but it was early enough in the evening that even through the closed curtains there was still some light in the room for Krolia to see by as she watched Keith fall asleep, gradually sinking deeper into his pillow, his breaths becoming deeper and more even.

And as he slept, Krolia could distantly hear the sound of a guitar playing a familiar song down the hall.


End file.
